The Vanished Mouse Detective
by ChibiJaime
Summary: Dawson, concerned for Basil's safety, takes a trip to Scotland Yard after his companion has been missing for three days... First shot, be kind.


{/Dramaticized from "The Case of the Vanished Detective". I wrote this after watching my SH DVDs. Not a very serious story overall, and it was mostly just me testing the waters.  
  
Basil and Dawson are c/o Eve Titus and Disney. Inspired by the Basil of Baker Street mysteries and Disney's "The Great Mouse Detective". Extras are c/o me. For lack of an Inspector Lestrade-like character, my inspector is Le Feuvre. This is subject to change, but as it won't really change the story, if the name changes, dont' worry about it. :P Certain names may strike those of you familiar with older Sherlock Holmes series and actors as familiar./}  
  
~=~The Vanished Mouse Detective~=~  
  
It was early morning, I would say around five of nine, September 9th of 1899 when I found myself upon the underside of a carriage on its way to Scotland Yard. For the past few days or so, it had been raining, and my mood had been quite grim... for the day before the rain started, my good friend and associate Basil of Baker Street had left on some errand... and had not returned since.  
  
Once the stormclouds had broken, I did as well - partly under the influence of our good mousekeeper Mrs. Judson, who was in a terrible way from worrying about Basil; I decided to head to the Yard to see Chief Inspector Le Feuvre about this business. Basil had left before to do cases on his own, but he had always returned during odd hours at least once or twice not only to let us know he was all right, but also to switch costumes. It was most unlike him to disappear without a trace.  
  
And such was the reason that on that chill, damp morning, I stamped up the path to the small opening into the Scotland Yard for we mice. I was escorted inside, but stopped outside Le Feuvre's office by a constable who was most insistant.  
  
"I am very sorry, Doctor!" he apologized vehemently. "But y'see, Inspector Le Feuvre is busy right now and can have no callers."  
  
"The devil with being busy!" retorted I. "This is business of the utmost importance! I must see Le Feuvre immediately!"  
  
The constable shook his head. "I really am quite sorry. But the inspector's in a conference..."  
  
Frowning, I bustled past the constable. Basil's life could be in danger, and I would have no such thing! "The conference can wait!"  
  
Inside Le Feuvre's immaculate office, had I been in any other mood, I would have laughed at the sight of the good inspector. Upon my sudden and most, I must admit, rude entrance, he had nearly choked upon the tea he had been drinking, and was doubled over in his chair coughing. "Doctor..." he paused to cough, "Dr. Dawson! I wasn't expecting you! Was just having a bit of tea..."  
  
I gave a bit of an annoyed sigh, and he must have noticed, for when I did he was sobering up, clearing his throat loudly as he glanced towards me. I regarded him for a moment, then started to speak. "Le Feuvre, you must come with me post-haste. I am afraid Basil is missing, and he has been for nearly three days."  
  
"Basil?" questioned he, his whiskers twitching up just slightly as he observed me most carefully. "Oh, poppycock, Doctor. He's likely just out on a case or somethi--..."  
  
I interrupted a bit more curtly than I usually would, and it hushed Le Feuvre so quickly that I heard him click his teeth as he shut his mouth. "Never in this sort!"  
  
With a sigh, Le Feuvre stood up from his desk, going to get his bowler hat and jacket. "Very well, Doctor... no need to get shirty. I'll return to Baker Street with you. We'll see what this business is about."  
  
*****  
  
We walked about the flat once we arrived for nearly an hour - during which I was forced to solemnly inform a thoroughly distressed Mrs. Judson that we had no news of Basil's whereabouts - before Le Feuvre gave me a sideways glance and sighed, folding his arms. "Doctor, really, I see nothing out of the ordinary but what I have seen every time I have happened here to speak with Basil on business."  
  
I was annoyed, but realized that the good inspector had not been around Basil to know his habits quite so well as I. And so with one hand, I motioned about the messy sitting room. "There by his chair... his violin out of its case. He leaves it out when he is gone for only a short while, but he is most careful to put it away when he feels he will be gone longer." Then, I directed his attention to the chemistry set. "And see there. He was obviously in the middle of an experiment. While he is at times absent-minded at best, it is most unlike Basil to leave his chemicals unchecked... he has a bit of a fear of a volatile reaction."  
  
At this, Le Feuvre began to nod thoughtfully, rubbing his chin with one hand. He looked back to me, frowning slightly. "I see your point. But how would that imply that he is not simply on a case?"  
  
"If he left on a case, I fear harm has come to him," I replied lowly, "for Basil never stays more than two days out without word, or at least making his presence known... and it has been three. And besides that, he left his pipe. You know as well as I that Basil goes nowhere without his pipe... when he takes any sort of rest, he smokes to calm his nerves."  
  
Finally, Le Feuvre gave in, casting a glance around. "Then it is safe to assume some foul deed has befallen him. We must work quickly, Doctor. There is no telling how much time we may have."  
  
The words and tone which Le Feuvre used did nothing to improve my mindset. I had and still possess a great respect for Basil's quick reflexes and keen mind, but while quick in speed he was not high in strength, being quite a thin mouse. If someone had overtaken him, they could have overpowered him, and heaven knew what could have happened then!  
  
Righting my thoughts again, I motioned for Le Feuvre to follow me to the fireplace, where Basil tended to keep his correspondence tacked to the mantlepiece with a jack-knife. But none were there at present. "Drat... I had hoped that perhaps we may find a correspondence... something to hint at a case or some such other thing."  
  
Presently, Le Feuvre had lifted a pile of papers from the small table beside Basil's chair. He shifted through them silently, muttering to himself, "Bills... bills... bills... bills... merciful Heaven, does he get anything other than bills? Ah! I believe this could be what you are looking for, Doctor."  
  
Without a word, I plucked the paper from Le Feuvre's paws. I did not have Basil's powers of observation, and just looking at this paper I could tell none of what he would have. But my eyes did catch something. The date upon the paper was two years before, just barely two months following his recovery from the Flaversham case. "It is not the one we are searching for, I'm afraid," I sighed miserably. "The date on this is September of 1897... almost exactly two years ago today. This is hopeless, Le Feuvre..." I shook my head, most frustrated. "To go through Basil's things to find the correspondence we need would take a month, if not more."  
  
The two of us stood in silence for a moment before my eyes fell upon a piece of paper tucked into an old slipper sitting by the fireplace. Quite curious, I reached down to lift it, unfolding it before I let my eyes drift over the words written. Le Feuvre looked rather curious, glancing over to me. "What is it you have there?"  
  
"A correspondence! Dated four days ago! The very day before Basil disappeared!" I reigned in my excitement in order to read the letter aloud so that Le Feuvre could hear. "Dear sir, it is at the request of the below signed that you should come to the Bonyfiddle Curiosity Shop at Lower 7 Bachelor Lane post-haste, upon a matter of great importance. It is most imperitive that I speak to you right away. Signed, Marion Crawford." I paused, twitching my ears. "Lower 7 Bachelor Lane... that's beneath Ye Old Curiosity Shop."  
  
Straightening considerably, I noticed that Le Feuvre's attitude seemed to lighten. I knew that he and Basil had no friendship, but the inspector respected my colleague, and sometimes spoke over tea with him, concerning cases. It pleased Le Feuvre greatly to know that he would be, for once, helping the great detective out of danger! "Then we shall go there. Quickly now, Doctor. Dear Lord knows what may be happening while we dally!"  
  
I nodded my agreement and followed him out of the flat. We made fast tracks hopping a ride on a passing cab, switching every so often, every one taking us closer to Bachelor Lane... and possibly to Basil.  
  
*****  
  
The small curiosity shop did not seem very out of sorts to any other, there on the corner of Bachelor Lane. Trying to remember what things I had picked up from my observations of Basil, I peered intently through a window, taking in all that I could before the inspector and I made our entrance. Le Feuvre watched with a curious eye, one brow raised with his ears tilted back. "What on earth are you doing?"  
  
"Trying to get a better look," I explained, standing straight. "I am trying to think this through the way Basil would. Logically."  
  
Le Feuvre twitched his whiskers, then glanced at the shop as well. "Looks like an ordinary curiosity shop to me, Doctor."  
  
But something in the back of my mind nagged that this was not right somehow. I tilted my head to the side, then glanced back to Le Feuvre. "From the outside."  
  
"What the devil do you mean by 'from the outside'?"  
  
I simply motioned with my hand for him to follow as I headed inside. Le Feuvre seemed quite confused, but he followed just the same. The interior of the shop was just as ordinary as the outside. There was a young lady shifting through the items on a shelf, and near the back sat the proprietor. He was a haggard old mouse, with greying brown fur that was thick about the front of his muzzle. His ears were low-set, and he squinted through a pair of glasses that sat on his long nose. From the way he sat, I assumed he may perhaps have some sort of back problem. Nodding to Le Feuvre, we made our way over to where the elder mouse sat. "I beg your pardon, sir," said I, "but you wouldn't happen to be the proprietor Marion Crawford, would you?"  
  
"Indeedy I am," answered the old mouse as he lifted his head to look at me, bringing up a gnarled hand to adjust his glasses for a better look. "Might I be able to help you young sirs?"  
  
Le Feuvre gave a nod, standing himself straight. On business, he appeared much more official than when speaking to him normally. "Yussir, I believe you may be able to. I am Chief Inspector Le Feuvre of Scotland Yard, and this is Dr. David Q. Dawson. We are here investigating the disappearance of Basil of Baker Street. He's a rather tall, thin chap... wears a deerstalker and an Inverness cape. Tan fur, green eyes."  
  
I almost swore I saw the man start at the mention of the name, but I brushed it off as my imagination. He looked thoughtful for a moment, the tip of his tail twitching a bit. "Basil of Baker Street... hrm... heard the name before. Famous detective, isn't 'e? But never met the lad once. Sorry I couldn't be of more help."  
  
I blinked, surprised to hear that. Surely this was a ruse! Frowning, I pulled the correspondence from the flat and handed it to the gentlemouse. "But this, sir, is a correspondence to my associate directly from you. Is this not your handwriting?"  
  
The old shopkeeper blinked, then read over the letter curiously. After a moment, he shook his head. "No, no sir... my handwriting looks nothing like this. More like this, you see."  
  
And he lifted a quill pen, flipping over the paper before writing his name - Marion Crawford - in an awful sort of chicken scratch that I would have been lucky to figure out if I had just been glancing. When he handed the paper back, I compared the two, then glanced to Le Feuvre. "No resemblance?"  
  
"Not a bloody bit." Le Feuvre did, however, give a suspicious look towards the shopkeeper. Perhaps... "I say, good man, do you mind if we browse a bit?"  
  
The old mouse smiled jovially, most happy to hear those words. "Of course, of course! Y'see, young sirs, I like to think of me shop as an oasis of tranquility from the changin' world."  
  
As he spoke, I turned my head to watch the young lady mouse shuffle past me into a room of books. I just barely caught the title of the one she lifted from the shelf before Le Feuvre nudged my arm lightly and trudged across the room to investigate. I nodded to him and turned to enter the book room, but was unfortunately paying no mind to what I was doing and ran head-on into the young lady. She dropped her purse with a start, items dropping from it.  
  
"Oh, I do beg your pardon, miss!" I cried, most apologetic. Kneeling, I helped her with her things, but not before my eyes fell upon a letterhead... Pietro's Dress Shop?  
  
The girl smiled as I handed her her purse, tucking back a few strands of her fur that had fallen out of place. "It's my fault, sir, I wasn't watching where I was going. Thank you."  
  
She gave a curt little bow, then shuffled away. I watched her for a moment, then went back into the book room. Very shortly, Le Feuvre followed. "That book she picked up had a very unusual title..."  
  
"Shall we see what it was, then?" questioned the inspector.  
  
Before I could even lay a finger on the book, the proprietor of the store was almost magically to my other side, his paw covering it. "Sorry, young sirs, but the books on this shelf are not for sale."  
  
I eyed the old man suspiciously for a moment, trying to perhaps figure something out about him as Basil would. But all I could figure was that from the way he was hunched over, he must have been quite a tall mouse in his younger days. "I was under the impression," I did manage to say, "that all the items in this store were for sale."  
  
"Everything," answered the old man, "except for the books on that shelf."  
  
He hobbled off without another word on the subject, but by then, I had grown quite suspicious. I picked up the book, the title of which was 'Deportment of Young Ladies in Proper Society' (a dreadful title and subject, I add), and marched over to the proprietor's desk, setting the book down upon it. "My good man, I insist upon purchasing this book."  
  
He protested, but I insisted again, and with a sigh, he leant beneath the desk to wrap the book. "That'll be one shilling." I paid without protest and picked up the book, after which the old shopkeeper said. "Now, if you young sirs'll excuse me, I've business with a repairman in a half hour and must close up shop."  
  
As miffed as we were by the suddenness of the whole thing, Le Feuvre and I did make our way out of the curiosity shop, sidestepping a gaunt, lower-class gent who tipped his head to us. Once outside, I gave a heavy sigh. "This whole thing is rotten to me, Le Feuvre. Something isn't right."  
  
"Like what exactly, Doctor?"  
  
"Like..." I paused, glancing at the wrapped book in my hands. "Great Scot... this isn't even the same book! It's much smaller! That old rascal played us for fools!"  
  
Le Feuvre frowned, watching me for a moment. "So what do we do, Doctor?"  
  
"We go back inside. I'll distract the old fellow, you take another look around. Basil has been here, that much I am certain of... and we must find out where he's gone!" Le Feuvre gave me a rather incredulous look, but I shook my head. "It's nothing... this is the sort of thing I've done with Basil on occasion. We can do this."  
  
Steeling ourselves again, the two of us reentered the shop, and as I approached the proprietor, Le Feuvre began looking around the main area of the shop. "Sir," I began, "this is not the book I purchased! It was that one there, that you have on your desk."  
  
The old mouse wrinkled his nose and pointed to the book I held. "No, sir, I am certain it was this one! This other book is not for sale!"  
  
I was just about to protest further when I heard Le Feuvre make a sound of surprise. Turning slightly, I found myself staring in horrified shock at what he held. "Doctor... it's Basil's deerstalker and Inverness cape. I found them in a pirate chest near the back of the room." There was a pause, and I stared at Le Feuvre in shock. He glanced down at the clothes in his hands, then just lifted his eyes. "...with bloodstains."  
  
My thoughts instantly turned to what must've happened to my poor friend... hurt or or even dead somewhere! I am normally not a man who is easy to rile, but just then I would not let this pass. I caught hold of the old man's collar, frowning deeply. "Where is Basil?! What have you done with him, and speak up!"  
  
Le Feuvre chimed in then, stepping over to grab hold of the proprietor's sleeve. "Sir, you are under arrest for the disappearance and suspected kidnapping and injury or possible murder of one Basil of Baker Street!"  
  
"I tell you, young man, I--..." His words stopped when the youth from before barreled past us, grabbing the book in question before bolting towards the door. And suddenly, the expression on the proprietor's face became familiar... and his voice one I knew all too well. "Dawson! Le Feuvre! You idiots, he's getting away!"  
  
Le Feuvre must have noticed it as well, for he took after the gent as quickly as the proprietor did once he was released from my grasp. The proprietor proved faster, but while he managed to get a hold on the mouse's coat, the old fellow was no match for the stranger's strength and found himself tossed into a pile of books and boxes. The other mouse had escaped.  
  
I turned my head in utter shock towards who had been Mr. Crawford. I recognized then everything that I had not before. His ears were glued back, and the extra fur on his muzzle was an added effect. Some of the powder on his face had been wiped off in the brief scuffle, and the fur beneath was revealed to be a crisp tan. I felt somewhat humbled at that point... for there amidst the boxes looking thoroughly vexed, staring at me with fierce green eyes I knew quite well, was none other than Basil of Baker Street. "Basil! You... I... you were here all along!"  
  
"Yes, and quite on the verge of solving this little case," he huffed in reply, righting himself as he plucked some of the faux fur from his muzzle. "I was indeed called here by a correspondance four days ago, but I could not let it be known that I had left this very building." He sighed, giving his head a quick shake as he flicked his ears, most likely sore from being glued down so long. "Don't give me that look, old friend. It's not your fault he escaped... the best laid plans of mice and men, they say. I should have told you I was on a case."  
  
Le Feuvre blinked in shock. He had never witnessed first-hand Basil's expertise in disguise, so he was rather impressed. "I never would have known it was you, Basil... but... what in the world is going on here?"  
  
The young detective dusted his face off gingerly to remove the rest of the powder before reaching into a pocket in the vest he wore for a case of cigarettes. "There was indeed a Marion Crawford who is the proprietor of this shop, but he is currently in safe hiding. You see, a young gentleman - one Archie Duncan by name - has been transferring messages with that previous young lady, by means of the very book you were so insistant upon purchasing."  
  
"Archie Duncan," I repeated lightly. "Why, isn't that the man who received a life sentence for killing a man with a cleaver?"  
  
Pulling a cigarette from the case, Basil rested it on his lips and struck a match to light it. "The very same, Dawson. He apparently once was in the employ of Mr. Crawford, who was terrified by the whole matter and about went to the Yard. However, he threatened Mr. Crawford... threatened to kill him if he went to Scotland Yard with this. So... he turned to me."  
  
"Then the blood on your Inverness?" questioned Le Feuvre.  
  
"I was helping Mr. Crawford move some items about in the store and took a few nasty cuts on my arm. Unfortunately, the closest thing to grab was my inverness to stop the bleeding. Terribly sorry to have frightened you with that." He took a draw from the cigarette, breathing out a ring of smoke. "I was planning on nabbing that Duncan chap when he came in to retrieve the message from that young lady."  
  
I stared quietly at Basil for a moment. "And because of me, he got away."  
  
"Not for long, however," Basil stated in his usual way, most likely in an attempt to raise my spirits a bit. "I've told you before, Dawson, that there is always a chance... so long as one can think."  
  
"Well if we can't trace the man," Le Feuvre added in, "then we must trace the girl."  
  
"Difficult, but a good lead, Inspector," admitted Basil. "However, how to trace her?"  
  
It was then that I recalled the letterhead I had seen previously, the one upon the stationary the girl had in her purse. "I say, Basil... I believe I know the workplace of the girl!"  
  
Instantly, Basil's ears perked up and he grinned. "Dawson, you're getting the hang of this more and more by the day! What did you discover?"  
  
"Well, when I accidentally knocked the lady's purse out of her paws, I happened to notice writing upon it... her hours of work and the address of the very place."  
  
"On the letterhead of the stationary!" Basil laughed jovially, clapping me on the shoulder. "Good show, old boy! Where was the place?"  
  
"Pietro's Dress Shop, Lower 17 Laudry Street." I paused to rub my chin for a moment. "That young lady did have the look of a mannequin about her... wouldn't you agree?"  
  
"My dear boy, I would be afraid not to!" Grinning, Basil grabbed his stained Inverness from Le Feuvre, throwing it on before adjusting his deerstalker on his head. "We stop by Baker Street so I may grab a clean Inverness, then make our way there. Come, you two, we've not a moment to lose!"  
  
*****  
  
An hour later, the three of us found ourselves sitting in the viewing room of Pietro's Dress Shop, talking to the owner. Basil had woven together, quite quickly and masterfully, a story of his sister needing a new dress for a birthday gift, as she was coming to visit him within the week.  
  
Pietro, the owner, was most pleased to hear this from these "upstanding gentlemen", and called upon his best girl to show off his latest designs. As he spoke, pointing out various nuances on the rather daring outfit the young lady wore, I raised a brow, speaking in a hushed tone to Basil. "That's the girl..."  
  
"Sh shsh!" Basil hushed me.  
  
I cleared my throat slightly, then looked back to Pietro. "It's a bit daring, is it not?"  
  
"Yes, yes, quite daring! We are, after all, moving into the 20th century."  
  
The girl turned once more before heading back towards the stairway. Before she could ascend, however, Basil looked to the gentlemouse. "Monsieur, I would like to have a word with the lady in private."  
  
The designer looked stunned, and he started to decline in a somewhat stammered tone before Le Feuvre leaned foreward on his knees. "I am afraid it is a most important matter, monsieur. You see, the gentleman with me is Basil of Baker Street... and I am Inspector Le Feuvre of Scotland Yard."  
  
Hearing the names spoken, the girl took a terrible fright, dropping the parasol she held before running for the door. Basil did not say a word, he simply took off after her, as Le Feuvre and I got to our feet. "Good Heaven!"  
  
Vexed and confused, Le Feuvre stepped foreward. "Stop that girl!"  
  
I hurried to the door after my companion, stepping out to find him standing in front of her beside another doorway. "There really is no use in running," said he. "I am quite good at tracking people."  
  
The girl looked terrified, but she complied to Basil's wishes and walked past me back inside. I turned as Basil entered then, with Pietro nervously calming everyone's nerves as best as he could. "Never has one of my girls acted so--... oh..."  
  
"My dear lady, it would be in your best interests to tell me where Duncan is hiding now." Basil looked entirely serious, his arms folded. "Be quick now."  
  
The girl sobbed into her hands, shaking her head quickly. "I... I don't know!"  
  
Le Feuvre rested his hands on his hips, a rather stern expression taking over his face. "But you were leaving messages for him."  
  
"Yes, yes, but a gentleman friend gave them to me and told me to leave them there!" She trembled from top to tail. "I don't know where the man is!"  
  
I looked towards Basil, who was tapping his pipe lightly against his chin. Then, I spoke up, catching his attention. "One of Duncan's friends, I would assume. If she is telling the truth."  
  
Basil quirked a brow, but other than that his expression remained neutral, and he turned his attention back towards the young model. "What were the contents of the message?"  
  
"Well," she started, "it was a name... and an address. The name was Ronald Howard... but I swear to you, I don't recall the address!"  
  
To this, Le Feuvre cocked his head, looking as if something had struck him. "I say, Basil... there was once a judge by that name. Retired a few years ago... rather odd old chap."  
  
"And I will wager any amount of money that this Ronald Howard is the very judge that sentenced Archie Duncan to a life sentence!" Basil exclaimed.  
  
I gaped. "And now Duncan is looking for him."  
  
Basil nodded as he turned towards the door. "And now Duncan is looking for him."  
  
*****  
  
We hopped the next hansom headed in the direction that the judge lived in order to see if we could head off the murderer. We arrived around four... close to teatime. Nothing seemed out of the ordinairy when we arrived. A maid showed us in, leading us to what appeared to be an empty room. "Mr. Basil of Baker Street, Dr. David Dawson, and Inspector Le Feuvre of Scotland Yard."  
  
Once she introduced us, she gave a little bow and shuffled out. I raised my brow, looking over to Basil. "I say, Basil, who was she talking to?"  
  
There was a sudden short cackle and both Le Feuvre and I jumped, glancing over to look at a box where stood two... marionettes? One of them was dressed as a judge, and it appeared to be the one doing the cackling. "Oh, callers! Basil of Baker Street? I say, Mum, do you know any Basil of Baker Street?"  
  
"Oh," replied the female puppet, which was carved and dressed like an older woman, "you mean the famous pastry chef!"  
  
I was amused to see that Basil was biting his lip, ears tilted back slightly as he fought the urge to burst into laughter at this rather ridiculous display. I was rather close to laughing myself, despite the situation. The judge puppet waved its hand. "No, no, no, I never eat pastries! It must be the OTHER Basil of Baker Street. The third one!" It leaned foreward on its strings. "The famous detective! So, Mr. Basil of Baker Street... speak your peace! Court adjourns in exactly... one minute!"  
  
There was a pause as Basil allowed himself a chuckle before he folded his arms in front of him. "Judge Howard, four years ago, you sentenced a man by the name of Archie Duncan to life in prison."  
  
"Duncan..." came the male voice. "Hm... oh, yes, Duncan! Killed a man with a cleaver... Most unpleasant chap! What about him?"  
  
"When you sentenced him," Basil went on, "he claimed he would come to back kill you."  
  
The judge puppet gave a little shrug. "They all do. Happens all the time... I'm quite used to it. Routine."  
  
Basil shifted on his feet, glanced at me, then looked back to the puppet box. "He has escaped from prison and is now out to make good on his word."  
  
"Nonsense!" the male voice shouted, although it now sounded a little disturbed. "All a bluff! A bluff! Isn't that right, Mum?"  
  
"Definitely a bluff!" answered the female puppet. "Why, I wouldn't sleep a wink if I believed everything they threatened to do to the judge!"  
  
"Friends, this is a very serious threat..."  
  
The male puppet interrupted, lifting its hand. "Court is now adjourned! Please have a seat!" The curtains fell closed in the puppet box, but briefly, the judge puppet peeked out. "The judge'll be seein' you shortly." And then it was gone.  
  
Basil chuckled softly, but motioned to Le Feuvre and I to follow him as he moved further into the room. From behind the puppet box came an elder mouse and a lady I assumed to be his wife. The man laughed a little, holding out his hand to Basil. "Terribly sorry, young man. Just a bit of sport... they're like our children." As Basil shook his paw lightly, the older mouse grinned. "Basil of Baker Street, I presume? Judge Ronald Howard, and this is my wife, Edith. Now... what is this you were saying about that Duncan chap?"  
  
"Archie Duncan has escaped from prison and has been searching for you," Le Feuvre explained. "We are certain he means to kill you. Because of that, I request your permission to placed an armed guard inside the house. Until we apprehend Duncan, of course."  
  
But the judge shook his head, putting an arm about his wife's shoulders. "I wouldn't hear of it, Inspector. Why... if people found out I was giving in to idle threats..."  
  
"Good Lord above knows what would happen," finished his wife. "It's best if we avoided that."  
  
Le Feuvre nodded slowly, but wasn't about to give up just yet. "I will respect your wishes, however, I *will* set up a cordon outside."  
  
Nodding, the judge watched the inspector carefully. "Yes, yes, if you insist. But you make certain they don't step on my flowers."  
  
Basil frowned, obviously not pleased by this turn of events, but as we turned to go, the maid was leading in a young constable, with whom was a silver-furred, gangly mouse. He tipped his hat slightly, holding up a letter. "Sorry t'disturb ya, gov'ner. But a bloke on the street asked me t'deliver this t'the judge."  
  
Judge Howard raised a brow, then took the letter from the mouse, skimming over it with his eyes. He blinked twice before handing it to Le Feuvre, who read it out loud. "Dear judge, I am one of your old court attendants. This is a matter of urgency, as I am on me death bed and I need to write out a will for me granddaughter. I would be much obliged if you could come. The address is 17 Radleys Lane. Signed, John Caskett." He glanced to the judge. "Have you ever had a court attendant named John Caskett?"  
  
"I don't know. I've had so many, it's hard to keep up!"  
  
"Who gave you this letter?" questioned the inspector of the gangly mouse.  
  
The stranger shrugged, holding up one paw to about his own height. "Fella 'bout this high. Thin face. Seedy type, iffun y'know what I mean. Gave me two bobs and said to bring it 'ere. But 'e said to say, he's on 'is deathbed an' t'hurry."  
  
Nodding slightly, Le Feuvre rubbed his chin. "I see... that's Duncan all right."  
  
"Uhm..." The silver mouse stepped foreward a little. "Can I keep th' two bobs, gov'?"  
  
Le Feuvre looked surprised, but he motioned the fellow off. "Yes, yes, go on."  
  
I looked towards the judge in thought, feeling a bit concerned for his well-being. "It's most likely a trap. You could be walking into your death."  
  
The judge stared at me, totally aghast. "I will never cease to be amazed by the double-sided nature some mice can have..."  
  
"Very well, then," murmured Le Feuvre lightly. He then looked to one of his deputies. "Locksley, gather the men together. We make for 17 Radleys Lane."  
  
By this point, I noticed that Basil had stopped, staring straight ahead as if something had struck his mind. "Wait just a moment, Inspector. This might be a ruse."  
  
Annoyed by the comment, Le Feuvre frowned at my companion, folding his arms. "Of course it's a ruse, Basil!"  
  
"Of a different kind." Turning his pipe in his hand, he pointed at his rival, one ear tilted foreward. "What if he's trying to get you to drop the police cordon around the house?"  
  
"Oh..." Then, Le Feuvre blinked as if the fact hit him. "Oh! Well... he's in for a surprise, isn't he? Men, keep your posts outside. If any of you so much as lets someone look at the place cross-eyed without questioning them, I'll have your fur."  
  
A series of salutes and "yessirs!" before we excused ourselves, letting Judge Howard and his wife to tea. Basil, however, did not seem interested in the discussion Le Feuvre had struck up, as the inspector seemed rather proud of what he felt was outwitting Duncan. We had barely been gone fifteen minutes, riding on the underside of a departing hansom, when Basil's ears perked, his expression looking somewhere between realization and horror. "Hold on... Inspector! Who did that mouse describe earlier?"  
  
"Simple enough," muttered Le Feuvre, who was fishing in his jacket for a cigar. "Duncan."  
  
"And who else?!" Basil was most insistant. "Who else did he describe?!"  
  
Le Feuvre glanced at him with a raised brow. "Basil, I haven't the slightest what you're getting at."  
  
"Himself! He described Duncan and himself!" Then, without a warning, he jumped down from his seat, calling up to us. "Quickly! We've no time to waste, if we're not already too late!"  
  
*****  
  
It took me very little time to realize Basil's cause for alarm. We had left the good judge with the very man who had been looking to kill him. As a medical man, knowing Duncan's mindset, he was most certainly not the sort to miss such an opportunity. Now, we had to make fast tracks back to the judge's home... and every passing second was against us.  
  
When we arrived, Basil was several strides ahead of Le Feuvre and I. He burst through the door, Le Feuvre following, and then me. He paused only briefly at a sound in the closet, but as I was soon handling that, he quickly moved into the sitting room. Inside the closet was the poor maid, tied up and gagged! Once I had her freed, I followed the others.  
  
The sight we found was horrific. Mrs. Howard was fainted on the floor, and the silver mouse from earlier was choking Judge Howard! Le Feuvre had his revolver up in a second, firing a shot to maim. As Duncan went down, Basil rushed to the judge's side. "Judge Howard! Judge Howard, are you all right?!"  
  
"I'm fine, Mr. Basil, never better," breathed the judge, glad to have a breath of fresh air.  
  
I myself knelt next to Mrs. Howard, patting her hand lightly. "She's fine... just suffering from shock is all..."  
  
The judge, taking another deep breath, knelt next to his wife, patting her shoulder gently. "Mum... Mum, it's all right, these fine gentlemen saved us."  
  
"Oh..." Mrs. Howard sighed lightly, fanning herself with one hand. "That horrid man... that horrid, HORRID man..."  
  
"You were right about that Duncan, Mr. Basil," murmured the judge. "Very right. I owe you my life."  
  
Basil smiled. "All in a day's work, your honor. Besides... it was Inspector Le Feuvre with the revolver."  
  
Le Feuvre just twitched his whiskers. He wasn't paying much attention, as he was handcuffing the writhing Duncan. Judge Howard rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "I have to repay you somehow..." Then, he clapped his fist into his open palm. "I know just the thing. I'll teach you to be a puppeteer!"  
  
Basil's brow rose. "A puppeteer...?"  
  
Nodding, the judge reached into the puppet box as Le Feuvre got Duncan to his feet. Even the inspector looked rather surprised. Basil put a hand to his chin and watched the judge curiously, listening to his instruction, as Le Feuvre and I made for the door. Stopping there, I turned with a light laugh to find Basil fumbling his way through actually trying to make the thing move.  
  
The judge smiled, taking another puppet. It 'waved' at Basil once my companion finally gave up, and the judge mimiced its voice. "That was some good thinking there, Detective Basil! At least... pretty good."  
  
He gave it a giggle, then made the little clown dance and stand on its hands with another wave as Basil and I made our way out the door, following Le Feuvre closely behind.  
  
~=~End~=~ 


End file.
